The world narrowed to the thunder of footsteps, the ragged gasps of breath, and the shuddering walls around them. Morning John Belied was an unstoppable force at the front, his broad shoulders carving a path through the dusty air. Behind him, the ragged chain of survivors stumbled and scrambled: Aurélie with a vice-like grip on a giggling Ember, Charlie clutching his satchel to his chest like a life preserver, and the three young Ruru-Gin—Tori-Rick, Gin-Becy, and Nito-Dunc—keeping pace with desperate, skittering steps. The echoes of the mining team's boots provided a grim drumbeat from the rear.
The tremors that had chased them finally ceased, leaving an eerie, ringing silence in their ears, broken only by their own frantic movement.
"Should we—" Charlie wheezed, daring to hope for a respite.
Morning didn't break stride. He glanced over his shoulder, his face etched in the gloom with a dire warning. "It isn't finished! Keep moving! This tunnel is about to—" His sentence was obliterated by a deep, grinding roar from behind them.
Charlie squeaked as a visible wave of heated air and dust, carrying the acrid scent of scorched stone and steam, barreled down the corridor like a ghostly freight train. It washed over them, hot and choking.
Tori-Rick's eyes, wide with a fear deeper than the collapsing mountain, darted ahead. A faint, greyish light was visible now, not the warm glow of hearth-moss or crystal, but the cold, alien light of the world above. "This tunnel… it leads to the surface!"
"But we can't!" Gin-Becy cried, her voice shrill with primordial terror. "The Stone-Skin! The light!"
"We must, or be buried alive!" Morning roared back, his warning tone grim, leaving no room for argument. He squinted toward the growing light. "It's almost dusk! The sun's angle is low! Move!"
Tori-Rick looked from the ominous dust-cloud at their backs to the terrifying light ahead. His young face hardened, the commander pushing past the fear. He met Gin-Becy's and Nito-Dunc's terrified eyes. "We keep going! It will only be for a little while! Then we… we get back inside! Right!"
It was a plea as much as an order. Gin-Becy, her ledger forgotten, and Nito-Dunc, his explorer's curiosity utterly extinguished, both nodded with grim, trembling determination. "Right!"
The sliver of light became a blinding sheet. They burst from the tunnel's mouth not with grace, but with the final, desperate lurch of the doomed, tumbling out onto a sharp, rocky slope on the island's highlands. Cold, thin air assaulted their lungs, a shocking contrast to the tunnel's stifling heat. They collapsed, coughing and gagging, hacking up dust.
Behind them, with a final, exhausted sigh, a colossal billow of dust and spent steam erupted from the tunnel entrance, shrouding the area in a gritty, grey fog.
Charlie rolled onto his back, gasping. "My word… we made it…"
His relief died in his throat.
As the dust cloud settled, three small, still figures became visible near the tunnel mouth. Tori-Rick, Gin-Becy, and Nito-Dunc were frozen mid-stride, caught in their last moment of flight. Their shaggy hair and woolen clothes were now a uniform, dull, metallic gold. Their faces were locked in expressions of determined fear, their bulbous noses and wide eyes transformed into lifeless, ornate statuary. The last sliver of setting sun, cutting across the highlands like a razor, had found them.
Solar Petrification.
Ember blinked at the golden statues. Her head tilted. A slow, wondering giggle escaped her lips. "So… shiny…"
Aurélie, her chest heaving, pushed herself up on her elbows. The tactical part of her mind was already assessing the landscape, the remaining threats. She started to rise.
The cold, unyielding circle of a pistol muzzle pressed firmly into the fabric over her shoulder blade. She froze.
Another muzzle was leveled at Charlie's forehead from a few feet away.
Over Regolith stood behind Aurélie, his clothes steaming slightly, his face a mask of controlled fury. Morning John Belied, having moved with silent, lethal speed, now stood over Charlie, his own pistol steady. The rest of the mining team fanned out, weapons drawn, forming a half-circle around the survivors.
The air was no longer choked with dust, but with a new, deadly tension. The only sounds were the whistle of the highland wind and Ember's soft, inappropriate giggles.
Aurélie slowly sat back on her heels, her hands raised to show they were empty. She looked up, her silver hair falling around a face of cool, unreadable porcelain.
Morning John leaned down, his voice a low, gravelly threat that carried over the wind. It was the sound of a mountain deciding to crush an intruder.
"Care to explain yourselves?"